


And Save Me From The Dark

by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Community: interhouse_fest, F/M, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, Insanity, Post-War, Resurrection, Samhain, Suicide, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: Nothing will ever bring back the dead, no matter what they whisper about the spirits returning in a night like this. It is only an illusion.





	

It was an illusion. It was an illusion, it had to be an illusion as otherwise she would lose herself, as otherwise… It was an illusion. _He_ was an illusion, and the terror of what she had for a second believed to be the truth seemed to never again release her, seemed to paralyse her, take her breath away, even minutes after she had come to her senses, and begun to realise. It was an illusion… It was an illusion.

Of course it was an illusion, because how could it possibly be real? How could she possibly have seen him, how could she possibly have seen her husband at her window, looking at her with an eerily empty expression? How could she possibly have seen him, how could she possibly have seen her Ted, whose lifeless body she had held within her arms for hours and hours after she had found him by her doorstep, long dead and brought to her perhaps as a warning, perhaps to allow her to bid her farewell? How could she have possibly seen him, when it had been months since she had buried him, months she had spent without him, despairingly attempting to cope? How… How?

It was an illusion. No matter what they whispered about the night of Samhain behind closed doors, no matter what they spoke of the spirits dancing in a night like this, no matter about the magic, the dark magic that had consumed them all… It was an illusion.  
Whispers were nothing but whispers, rumours nothing but rumours… No magic, none at all, was capable of once more giving life to the dead… Hadn’t Andromeda attempted everything, _anything_ to return her husband and daughter to her, hadn’t she been desperate enough to turn to the darkest kind of magic she had ever read about and nearly lost the remaining piece of her soul in the attempt, hadn’t she spoken the rarest of spells, brewed the most complicated potions and even bargained with Death itself, all to no avail? Nothing… Nothing would bring them back to her, not even a night sacred like this. It was an illusion. Of course it was an illusion, because what else could it be?

Andromeda trembled still as she turned away from the window at last, not bothering to close it, as she allowed herself to breathe, trembled still as she sank down to the large armchair in the drawing room, Ted’s favourite chair… What a fool she had been. What a damned fool she had been to assume, to assume even for one moment… The agony would nearly overwhelm her, would nearly drown her, caused her to scream, to utter a wordless cry of despair and anger, such unspeakable anger at her own naïvety. It was an illusion. 

He was gone. Ted was gone, and there was nothing, nothing at all that would be able to change what was not to be changed, no matter how great, how powerful her longing. Of course she longed for him to return, for Ted and Dora both, of course she was so desperate to once more enfold her arms about them, to speak to them, to look at them, and to… But not even a night like this, a night so full of magic, a night in which the spirits were said to return to this world, would grant her her most despairing wish.

Spirits… Ghosts… She had been haunted by many ghosts in the past months, had seen faint spectres of those she had lost so many times before and yet… Yet it had always been different, different to what she had believed to see now, different to… It had always been different.

Why… Why was she so terrified beyond words of what was really nothing? Why was she so terrified of his image, of the imagination of legends coming true? Why was she so afraid of ghosts when in truth it was reality she needed to fear? Had she lost her mind after all, had this war broken her, driven her into madness just as it had her sister, had insanity claimed her, as she found herself fretting more about strange delusions rather than the harshness of life it had become so difficult for her to face?

Chaos reigned. It had reigned ever since the boy had lost his life in battle, ever since he whom they called the Dark Lord had triumphed and shattered even their remaining hope for peace. Chaos reigned, and it felt as though it were to reign forever.

They dared not shed her blood, even now, now that there would be no punishment, now that at times she would wish for them to release her, to put an end to her suffering at last. They dared not shed her blood and yet would spit on her in the rare times she left the soothing darkness of her home, would tear at her robes and encircle her, as though she were worthless. As though she were nothing.

Chaos reigned, and Andromeda knew, knew that she was supposed to be afraid, knew that she needed to fear for her life, her safety… But she didn’t. Could not care less about her life. Again she screamed, screamed as so suddenly she felt two hands upon her shoulders, screamed at the sudden gust of wind, screamed as she heard a voice whisper against her hear, so faint, so familiar…

She dared not move, dared not breathe as how… How could it be possible? How could this still be her imagination when it felt so real, so… How… How could it be possible?

The spirits were dancing tonight.

Slowly, only slowly she turned her head, succumbing at last to what could be nothing but madness, succumbing to her desire to find him there, to find him by her side once more, no matter in what state, no matter how changed…

“Ted…” she breathed, blinking away the tears that had filled her eyes in the moment she saw him, truly, the moment she gave in, wrapping her arms about his waist so gently as though he might break at her touch and pulling him into a tender, never-ending embrace.

*

Sunrise. They would have until sunrise, and it felt so cruel, so cruel to be torn apart once more after merely a few hours, so cruel to know that he would be gone so soon, it felt so cruel... Sunrise. It was nothing, nothing at all compared to eternity, nothing at all compared to the months she had spent without him, the years that lay ahead of her until Death would come to release her… It was nothing.

Andromeda could not stand the thought, could not stand the imagination of the sunrise to come, she could not stand being separated from him once more… How would she be able to cope? How would she be able to cope with once more losing him, with letting go of him and knowing that never…?

No… No! She would not… She would not let go of him, not again, she could not… She could not! Samhain… It was a night of miracles after all, a night that had enabled for them what she had deemed impossible, it was the night that had returned him to her…

She would no longer seek for explanations, would no longer ask the questions she had asked herself countless times before and no longer wonder whether she had gone mad as in this moment it was not of importance if she had, as in this moment only he mattered, only Ted mattered… He was here. He was here, and never again would she let go of him.

The spirits were dancing tonight.

He had come to warn her, she knew, had come to protect her from the terror that had claimed his life… He had come to warn her of the darkness, the danger she found herself in so constantly… He had come to warn her, as even in Death he seemed to worry, as he seemed to be watching over her, as…

Sunrise. It all would be over by sunrise, and the relentless passing of time seemed to suffocate her… She would go with him. Of course she would, would never again allow them to be apart, never again… Wouldn’t Death come for her, after all? Wouldn’t one day the Death Eaters invade her home as they had done so many times before in the war and put an end to what they called her life? Wouldn’t… She would go with him, would plead him, beg him to allow her to join him, she would… 

Darkness reigned not only within her home but also her heart, her soul… She would go with him…

It all went too fast. Andromeda dared not blink as the first rays of light began to infuse the room, dared not blink as she watched him disappear as though he had never been there, his hand torn from hers so violently, as once more she cried out in despair and terror because nothing, nothing at all would… It all went too fast.

Too fast… She had begun to sob, her entire body shaking so violently that it seemed nearly impossible for her to move, her sight blurred by tears, those countless tears streaming down her cheeks… Had he ever been there? Had he ever been with her, truly, had she ever felt him, had he…?

Mad… Mad with grief, mad with… What else could she call herself but mad, what else could she…? Every movement was painful as Andromeda reached for her wand within her pocket, silently transfiguring the teaspoon placed upon the coffee table into a dagger, glistening dangerously in the morning light.

She would go with him… She would go with him. Hadn’t it been her intention for months, hadn’t she desired to follow him for months, hadn’t she…? She would go with him…

Andromeda smiled, smiled for the first time since Ted had left as she led the blade to her wrist at last, devouring its sharp bite, smiled as she realised that to die through her own hand was her triumph, her final triumph over this life, that she would emerge from this world victorious as so soon she would be reunited with her husband, reunited with her daughter, as she would not allow the Death Eaters to claim her… She would triumph.

She would…


End file.
